The Journey (26 page)

“Jem.”

“Hang on. Hang on. Just listen.” I paused and took a deep breath. “The Dragon fueled the Roman Empire until the Beast appeared. Then… the Dragon gave his power and position to the Beast. The Beast, in turn, spoke blasphemies against God and had great power for forty-two months.
Forty-two
, Father. Tell me. How many days is forty-two months?”

“…Twelve hundred and sixty.”

“Yes, twelve hundred and sixty years. The time from when the Pope was given supreme power, until religion was overthrown with the French Revolution. Think about it, Father. The Pope claiming to be God’s representative on Earth… his three-tiered crown symbolizing his rule over heaven, Earth, and hell… his claim to have the power to forgive sins—even after death. These things are
all
blasphemous.”

“Jem!”

“I’m sorry, Father, but feel free to show me where I err. Show me the other events, the other time in history that perfectly fits this part of the prophesy. It’s like a precision cut puzzle that fits
perfectly
into place.”

He glared at me but did not answer.

“The text also goes on to read…
Those who worshipped this Beast were the ones whose names were
not
written in the Book of Life.
Oh, and the part about one of the heads of the Beast sustained a mortal wound, but somehow survived… Well, when the Roman Empire was attacked by the Goths and the Huns and everybody else, it seemed like Rome sustained a deadly blow.
But
… that’s when Papal power was instituted, thus
Rome
was healed.”

“But the Beast is said to have a mark upon its head numbered six six six.”

“Yes, it does. And what do
you
believe that mark means?”

“Caesar Nero.”

“Nero was one seriously wicked, messed-up dude, alright.”

“Yes, and his name adds up to the six six six mark.”

“I see… You’re speaking of Greek letters having a specified numerical value.”

“Yes, and Nero fits perfectly. Neron Caesar, when translated into Aramaic, is Nrwn Qsr. All you have to do then is add the letters up…

N
un=50

R
esh=200

W
aw=6

N
un=50

Q
oph=100

S
amech=60

R
esh=200

For a total of 666.”

“But… why did you add an N to the end of Nero’s name?”

“It is an uncommon spelling, yes, but not inaccurate.”

“I see… But according to the rules of Jewish numerology, when the letter Nun appears for the
second
time in a word, it is considered a
Final
and is then given the value of seven hundred. So, to be precise… Neron Caesar—Nrwn Qsr… actually adds up to 1316, not 666.”

Father Robert narrowed his gaze, but didn’t say anything further.

“The problem most people have is that they try to name the Beast as a single dude.”

“As did you. You said it was the Pope.”

“I did not. I said it was the Roman Papacy—what the Roman Empire turned into after its fall to the barbarians. Not the
man
… the
Roman
institution. Look here…” I began writing in my journal. “If I use the exact same logic you did, but instead of trying to make it Nero… you make it Roman instead. This prophesy was written in Greek. The Greek word for Roman is Lateinos—the mythical King of Latium and founder of the race and kingdom of Rome. The official language of the Roman Church is Latin—your liturgies are in Latin, your ordinances are in Latin, you’re even called the
Latin
Church. So the numeric value of Lateinos would be…

L
=30

A
=1

T
=300

E
=5

I
=10

N
=50

O
=70

S
=200

For a total of…” I added them up in my journal. “…666.”

“So you’re saying the Pope is the antichrist?”

“I’m saying the Roman Church is.”

“That is heresy and blasphemy!”

“Not unless you’re Catholic. I’m not. Remember?”

Father Robert quickly stood, sending his chair scooting across the floor.

“Hey… Come on… Don’t get
mad
at me. I love Catholic people—people of
all
religions. You and I are friends, are we not? Forgive me. Please. I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings, Father. I wasn’t speaking of you
personally
, or of any other Catholic, for that matter. I’m not judging anyone here. I was only—”

He walked purposely towards the door without speaking
or
making eye contact.

“Hey… Father Robert… Wait…”

But he firmly shut the door, and was gone.

I sighed as I stood and glanced over at the clothes laid out on the bed for me—a knee-length brown cotton skirt, a black top, and another clean pair of undies.

I let my towel drop to the floor, then began dressing.

*****

I continued to study the ancient books I yet had.

Lunchtime came and went with no sign of Father Robert. Dinnertime that evening was the same.

When my stomach began to scream for relief, I quit my studies and slipped out of the room.

I had no idea where the kitchen area was and found nothing edible as I silently searched the darkened halls.

I timidly checked Father Robert’s office door.

“Locked. Dang it. If I could get to my cell, at least the bank might front me enough money to eat on.”

Desperate, I slipped out of the cathedral and onto the street. But with zero money to my name, and now no friends, I returned to my room emptyhanded.

By lunchtime the second day I was beginning to get physically ill. My system
and
my blood sugar was all messed-up, yeah, but I also began to freeze and burn up at the same time—chilling, with sweat running down my brow.

By dinnertime on the second day I could no longer concentrate on my studies. The words began to blur and my mind just wasn’t on it.

I stood then, deciding it would be better to dig through garbage cans than to die all alone in this abandoned wing of Notre Dame… when an odd word caught my attention. I tried hard to focus on the ancient text.

“Catacombs? Wait… It says here that… the catacombs under Paris contain a gateway to the Nether.”
Gateway to the Nether, huh?

I closed the large book and snatched up my other texts.

“Thanks for all your help, Father Robert,” I whispered as I made my way down the old hallway. “I left your book where I found it—here at Notre Dame. I have no more need of it.” I checked his locked office once more, then slipped out the back and headed toward the darker parts of town… hoping to glean information about how to access their infamous catacombs.

It didn’t take long. There are apparently
unauthorized
entrances all over the city. I made my way to the nearest one… and stepped into the utter darkness I hated with all my heart and soul.

Feeling my way inside… I was almost thankful for not having a light. I didn’t want to see with my eyes the disturbing things I was now feeling with my hands.

I journeyed ever farther into the enormous crypt.

I traveled for probably half an hour before it hit me… the smell. The further I went, the stronger it became.

And now… I bring you back to where this story began.

Chapter

10

Hunger and desperation had led my feet into the darkness. Now that my belly is all but forgotten… fear consumes me.

I made my way to the point where the scent of the Nether was the strongest. And now here I sit—back against the bone-strewn wall, curled in on myself with my arms wrapped around my legs and my weary head resting miserably atop my bent knees.

I shiver.

I almost cry.

I
would
believe I am near to freezing… were my profuse sweating not now soaking through my thin clothes.

To say that I am lost would be an awesome truth… in more ways than one.

“Is it true that you get so hungry… you forget that you’re hungry at all?”

Of course, no one answered my feeble whispered words. Yet, I am thankful they did not.

I tried to sleep, but my dreams were no more comforting than my wakened thoughts.

My mind is on Azazel… how it must feel to be cursed to this solitary, reality-altering darkness for all time.

I shiver.

I sleep.

I stir.

I sleep once more.

Time and reason escape me.

I know not how long I have been here.

Has it been days? Weeks?

“No. My heart yet beats. I am all but certain it will stop before a week finds me.”

I inhale deeply. Then cough the wretched stench of the Underworld back out of my lungs.

I must stay sane.

I must do something to keep my wits about me.

As to what that something might be… I have not a clue.

“Okay… Let’s see… I have recorded up to the part concerning the scholarly interpretation of the Beast of Revelation. The very part which severed my only earthly tie and left me starving and destitute.”

I sigh.

It echoes through the tunnels, chasing after my spoken words.

The darkness swallows up my existence.

The ancient bones breathe around me… longing for the souls that abandoned them so very long ago.

Will I be as these who now rest within the darkness?

Will my forgotten body turn to dust… far from the eye of man?

“Perhaps… Perhaps not. We shall see.”

I sigh.

I wipe away the clammy sweat.

My shoulder throbs as if my heart chose to relocate itself within my body. Minus my permission.

What day is it?

Has the sun risen?

The moon?

How many times have they danced their soothing dance across the heavens?

How long have I been willfully entombed?

“Oh, Father Robert, I am sooo sorry. I truly am. I never meant to hurt your feelings. In my heart of hearts this is true. Your feelings are extraordinarily precious to me. Alas… I could not agree with your reasoning, even at the cost of my wretched belly. The facts are what they are. The truth is what it is. I am as incapable of changing the meaning of the prophesy as I am of writing the words it contains.”

I lean my head back against the wall of crumbling bones and try to recall the remainder of my heavenly task.

“Now… what came next? The seals have been broken. The trumpets have all sounded. Oh yes… the seven bowls—or
vials
—of wrath containing the last seven plagues.”

Plague… I wonder how many of these rotting bones gave up their life to plague… How many of these skulls would sing the proof of their demise by such a ravenous thing as the Black Death…

“Where was I? Umm… Yes, I remember. Very well then. The Beast
is
Romanism—the Pagan, the Imperial, and the Holy Roman forms all inclusive—and these bowls pertain to that, as does the rest of the prophesy. These bowls are
filled
with God’s wrath. God’s. Not man’s. Not religion’s. Not Satan’s. Not even the church’s.
God’s
wrath.”

I shiver again. No… I have yet to
cease
shivering. I only happen to notice it occasionally.

I wipe my forehead across my bent knees.

My brown cotton skirt is soaked.

Poor Father Robert…

“Okay… Just like the first four seals and the first four trumpets… the first four bowls are interrelated as well.”

I hear a noise.

I stop my mind-calming chatter… listen closely.

I hold my breath.

The silence is deafening.

The darkness is blinding.

My body feels light—minus my faltering senses.

I forgot I was holding my breath.

I chuckle softly.

It echoes through the hollow eye sockets of my current companions… filling their nothingness with a breath of joy.

I laugh again.

The happy choir mocks me.

I smile.

“Where was I? Oh yes… When these seven wrathful plagues are poured out, they will diminish the Beast—eventually destroy it completely. And even though each bowl is a plague, the followers of the Beast remain unrepentant after each.”

Man… the vainest, most egotistical creature to walk this planet—refusing to repent, to say I’m sorry, I was wrong. Instead they proclaim… I will not beg… I will not crawl… I am good enough on my own… I need no one… I need no God.

“You’re so vain… You probably think this song is about you. You’re so vain…”

I giggle.

Not because of my thoughts
or
the song… but because of the way my out-of-tune words echo around me.

“Alrighty then… Umm… The seventh trumpet blew right around the time of the French Revolution. And just like the seventh seal contained the seven trumpets, so too does the seventh trumpet contain the seven bowls of wrath. So, that would make the pouring out of the bowls begin during Napoleon’s reign.”

“What are you doing in this place, woman?”

I would know that hissing, condescending voice anywhere—Paltiel.

That thought brought a weak smile to my painfully chapped lips. I lifted my head but didn’t open my eyes. There was no point.

“Paltiel… I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Ugh… You stink.”

“You
always
say that.”

“No. Now you reek of the stench of decay and rot.”

“I’m sitting in the world’s largest, most populated tomb. I am
surrounded
by decay and rot.”

“Not ancient death… coming death. Why are you here?”

“I had nowhere else to go. I was attacked. All my money was stolen. I had no one to turn to. And Uriel… Uriel still isn’t answering me.”

“And
that’s
because he is still seeing to his summons.”

“Yes… but I am in desperate need of help. You took my keys. I couldn’t come to you. And… I haven’t eaten for days. Please, Paltiel, please just send me to Japan. If I can get to Oharaimachi, Drella will fix everything.”

“The portals are closed.”

“Please.”

“I cannot. It is not within my power.”

I felt tears trickling down my cheeks then. I didn’t even try to hide them. I was way past pride… way past shame.

Paltiel sighed. “Come with me. I cannot transport you to Japan, but I might be able to find you some food… clean out a bit of that infection festering there upon your back.”

I ungracefully made it to my feet. “Gratitude, Paltiel.” I felt for him through the darkness. “Thank you so much.”

He sighed again, but when he took my hand it was not a violent or disgusted gesture—as he normally shows me. Instead, he gently took my hand and squeezed it. I desperately cleaved to his arm and followed him further into the darkness.

*****

“Humans are so messy.” He handed me a piece of cloth. “Wipe your face and blow your nose. I’ve never seen you cry before,” he added, under his breath.

I was grateful for the tiny act of kindness, but my hands were trembling so badly it took me much longer to comply with his request than it should have.

“Stay here.” He pointed to the odd desk I’d seen him leaning upon many times in the past. “I’ll see if I can find you something to eat… and a healer.”

“I think I’m okay for now. My tummy doesn’t even really hurt anymore. If you could just send me to—”

“I have already told you. I cannot transport you
anywhere
. Even if I could, Japan is off limits at the moment.”

“…I see.”

I started to make my way to the desk he had motioned to, but I staggered. Paltiel grabbed my arms just as the room began to spin.

“You look horrible. All of your color has gone.”

“I’m… I’m okay now.”

“You most certainly are
not
.” He unexpectedly placed his forehead to mine. “You’re burning up with fever.”

“I just think my sugar is dropping off a bit. That’s all. If I could rest for a moment… perhaps sleep for a little while.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. I smell disease upon you… and your glow is fading. Sit, but do not sleep. I will be back momentarily.”

“…Okay… But, I really think I’m fine.”

“Do you now? Then why are your words low and slurred?”

“…Because I’m tired, perhaps… weary.”

Paltiel helped me to his desk, then looked around. “I’ll be back, Jem. Don’t move from this spot.”

I remember nodding, but I don’t recall if I spoke or not. It took all my remaining strength just to slide my books onto that strange desk. I closed my eyes after he left me, I
do
remember that… because I woke up, retching. But only murky fluid was coming out, no food.

I’ll have to clean that up before he gets back. Paltiel’s gonna be so pissed.

I wiped my brow and my mouth, then noticed the little bag there on the corner of his desk. It took me a moment to focus enough to realize what it was.

“That’s… That’s Gadriel’s bag.”

I managed to grab the shiny golden string and pull it towards me. I tried to open it, twice.

“Dang it. Why won’t my hands do what I’m telling them to? Ugh… This is ridiculous.”

I unceremoniously dumped the contents out onto the desk, smiling when I saw that familiar brown pendant I’d found so many years ago. I clasped it tightly.

“Hello there, old friend. What say you and I go visit another old friend? Shall we?”

I scooped up my ancient manuscripts and stumbled toward the far wall, the one Paltiel always shoved me through on my trips to refuel. I stood there until I could properly gauge the shimmery part.

“Wouldn’t do me any good to just plow right into the wall, now, would it? Nope.”

I traced my hand across the surface until my fingers disappeared within. I followed them.

*****

The dark didn’t even scare me this time.

I dropped the weighty books as soon as I entered the cave, and leaned heavily against the wall as I made my way down the once familiar tunnel.

“Jem! Jem, is that you? Come to me. Why are you dawdling?”

“I’ll be there, Angel,” I mumbled. “Just give me a minute. I’m coming.”

“Jem… what’s wrong? Why do smell different?”

“Don’t start teasing me or I’ll turn around and leave… maybe. I don’t know. Wait… How long
is
this tunnel anyway? I don’t remember it taking me… Am I at the bottom? Wait…” I stopped. “Have I gone too far?”

“No, Jem. You’re almost here. Just a little further. Come to me. I will be patient. Just… don’t stop moving.”

“…Okay… I won’t.”

My head was full-on swimming by the time I reached his cavernous tomb. I staggered about in the dark. Couldn’t walk a straight line no matter how hard I concentrated.

“I’m right here, little one. Follow my voice. Keep moving forward. Do not worry. I will catch you, Jem.”

“Liar… You’ve only got one—”

I fell to my knees and retched again.

“Why do I keep— Ugh… I haven’t— even eat— en any— thing—”

“Jem, my love, what has happened to you?”

“You don’t— You— You don’t love— me.” I slowly got back to my feet and wiped my chin with the back of my hand. “Stop being silly, Angel.”

“Very well, smarty pants. Now, just a bit closer… Come on.”

When next I staggered and nearly fell, a vise-like arm seized me around the waist. Instead of landing on my face, Azazel’s withered chest broke my fall.

“Sorry. Did I hurt you?”

He squeezed me tight against his side. “Where have you been, little one?”

“All over.” I sighed and rested my weary head atop his shoulder. “I have a blood bond with Uriel now. I can’t come see you.”